Thoughts On Autism

There seems to be a “politically correct” movement, for lack of a better word in the autism world. For years, I have seen websites that discuss people being offended when autism is thought of as a disorder, hardship, or anything else negative. Maybe it is because it is so hard to separate the disorder from the person. People have Down syndrome, cancer, diabetes, etc. Autism is the only disorder that I can think of where the person is referred to as being autistic. Although I know a lot of parents that shy away from that form of the word. Instead of saying Ashley is autistic; we can say Ashley has autism. But it is so all encompassing; it is hard to separate autism from the person. I love my daughter more than I can possibly put into words. I could not love her any more than I do today, whether she was completely healthy or not. However, politically correct or not, I do consider autism a tragedy. It stole our child away from us at age 2. We lost her speech, interaction, and happiness. After many years of hard work, we occasionally see the little girl we once had. But for years we have watched her suffer, she lives in a limited, frustrating world. Life is hard for her, and everyone who loves her has lost out on so many things. I know there are people out there who are less affected, who live full lives. However, if a person has been given the diagnosis of autism that means that somehow their life is different, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with acknowledging that hardship. Does that mean you give up hope and go into a deep life altering depression? Absolutely not, as a parent you do everything you can to make their life is wonderful and fulfilling as possible. You keep that hope every day of their life. You embrace the child you have, seek out the good things, and thank God for them. But it does not make you a bad parent to say, “My child’s life is harder than I hoped.” I can have moments of sorrow and loss; I just can’t let those moments define my life, or my daughter’s life. Those moments are intermixed with moments of excitement, joy, embarrassment, and fear. Those moments make a complete life. I am not bitter or angry, and I can see many good things that have resulted from our experience of raising a child with autism. I can also see many things that I would change about her life, if I could. That does not make me close minded or an unaccepting parent. It makes me a mother who wants an amazing, pain free life for my child. If my daughter was in a wheelchair, I could love her and be proud of her accomplishments, strength, and resilience, but still mourn the fact that she can’t walk, and may miss some things in this life. My daughter is Ashley. She is beautiful, affectionate, intelligent, and silly. She will have a life to the best of her ability. As her family, we will fight for that with everything we have. Ashley is not autism. She is imprisoned by autism. I choose to love my daughter with everything I am. I also choose to hate the things autism has taken from her. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and endures through every circumstance. 1 Corinthians 13:7 Originally posted January 2012